


flavor of the week

by canticle



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Lots of kissing, M/M, kurusu akira's garbage diet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 03:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12497180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle/pseuds/canticle
Summary: a handful of the times sakamoto ryuji kissed kurusu akira





	flavor of the week

The first time it’s coffee.

Silky, bitter, rich and heady; Ryuji hates the taste of coffee, but can’t get enough of the smell. He’s come to associate it with Akira, after all, and there’s almost always the faintest hint of coffee wafting off of him. Usually, it’s just a tantalizing hint.

With Akira leaning over the bar and way, way into Ryuji’s personal space, it’s all he can smell, and all he can taste in his mouth. He licks his lips when Akira pulls back, eyes him cautiously.

It’s not bitter like it is when he steals sips of it from Akira’s coffee mug. It’s pervasive, almost overwhelming, but under it is the memory of the taste of Akira’s tongue. And his teeth, white as the cream he pointedly shoves out of reach whenever Ryuji makes eyes at it.

He thinks he can deal with coffee if it comes with a side of Akira. After that, he can’t really remember any objections he had to the flavor.

After that, he never really recovers.

* * *

 

The second time it’s artificial strawberry, strong enough that Ryuji smells it coming from a mile away. And yet, he still doesn’t back off as Akira closes ranks, grinning that smug little smile Ryuji’s sure he copied from Morgana, lips and teeth and tongue stained from the strawberry candies he’s been filching from Ann’s purse when she’s not looking.

He barely even tastes the undertone of Akira this time; it’s just sticky-sweet strawberry that he finds himself licking off the back of Akira’s teeth, out of every corner of that grin.

It lingers in his mouth for nearly half an hour afterwards. When it finally fades, he tries not to regret the loss.

He fails, and buys a packet of the same strawberry candies at the underground mall, shoving them in his pocket and vowing to forget their existence.

The packet is empty before he goes to bed that night.

* * *

 

The third is cherry on two fronts-- the lip balm Akira had applied not five minutes before a slightly greasy film between them, and the hard candy Ryuji accidentally manages to steal with a particularly vigorous motion.

It’s very crunchy. He eats it, satisfied, while Akira buries his head in his shoulder and _laughs._

 

* * *

 

The seventh is something sharp and bitter, something that makes Ryuji rear his head back in surprise, and Akira laughs, spits his caffeinated gum into a napkin. When he leans back in, the flavor has faded into something that leaves a bitterly fresh echo in his mouth.

It’s definitely an _unforgettable_ flavor. Akira gives him a few sticks to chew as they study, and that awful, bitter, minty tingle seeps into his tongue even as the words in his notebook blur in front of him.

 

* * *

 

The eleventh time is lemon, sharp and acidic with just a hint of sugar to cut the bite—kinda like Akira himself, if Ryuji thinks too much about it. With summer in high swing everyone’s looking for something to cut the heat, lemon soda and melon soda and all sorts of summer flavors.

Ryuji walks by every display and tries not to wonder what they’d taste like layered into Akira’s mouth.

But the eleventh time—they’re fishing, Akira with a bottle of sweet-tart lemon soda, Ryuji with plain water, and when he reaches behind himself and swigs from the wrong bottle without looking it sends an almost-unpleasant jolt right down his spine. Akira laughs at the look on his face, almost dropping his pole in the water; when Ryuji’s still grimacing ten minutes later he leans back and pulls Ryuji into him, doing the best to clear the taste right out of his mouth.

 

* * *

 

The seventeenth is sweet-and-salt, the potato sticks Ryuji’s been snacking on layered over the chocolate pocky Akira’s been devouring by the box. It’s new and interesting enough that Ryuji wants to savor it, pressing farther into his mouth even as his character dies an ignoble death onscreen and Akira makes a strangled noise, fingers hooking into his collar, drawing him nearer.

The seventeenth lasts long enough that in the end all he can taste is _Akira._

 

* * *

 

The nineteenth is curry, and he makes Akira brush his teeth before they kiss again.

The twentieth is mint.

 

* * *

 

The 31st is that despicable fruit tea, but Ryuji mans up; it’s his reward, after all, cramming the last of his summer homework in the diner with Akira next to him, spinning his pencil through his fingers and taking distracting sips of the awful drink.

He claims it increases his charm.

Ryuji flat out tells him that there’s no need to do that at this point, and Akira laughs and laughs before slipping his glasses off his nose and—

The 32nd is fruit tea and _cinnamon gum_ , and what a godawful combo!!

 

* * *

 

The 39th is sticky-sweet orange soda, an American brand that Akira pulled from a vending machine before curfew their first night in Hawaii. It still sucks that they can’t room together, especially considering all the alone-time they’d be able to have without Morgana’s judgy eyes, but Mishima wouldn’t budge.

They lean against the wall outside Ryuji’s room, swapping the can back and forth between them. Ryuji rolls the first sip around in his mouth with a wrinkle in his nose he can’t quite control-- it’s _very_ sweet, barely any citrus to the orange flavor. Akira doesn’t seem to have any problems with it, though. Ryuji watches him swallow through the corner of his eye, eyes the long, graceful line of his throat.

Akira catches him looking. Akira _always_ catches him looking.

The taste is definitely better filtered through Akira’s mouth. He presses the corner of his thumb to Akira’s cheek when they pull apart to squish the laugh off his face.

 

* * *

 

The 44th is--

He doesn’t really know, actually, just that it’s sweet and tangy, Akira holding a gummy candy in his cheek as they trade lazy kisses on the couch in front of the TV in Akira’s room. There are things that either of them could be doing-- _should_ be doing, really, schoolwork or studying or sleep-- but all Ryuji really wants is this long, hazy moment to go on for ages and ages.

When Akira sighs into his mouth, he steals the candy.

 

* * *

 

The 50th is blood.

Ryuji tries to be gentle, he really does, but Akira presses into his mouth with fervor, cracking open already-split lips and biting down, digging in, holding Ryuji to him like he wants to crawl inside his skin.

It’s something Ryuji understands. He feels the same way, after all, torn apart and furious at each and every bruise layered onto Akira’s skin. Every drop of blood spilt is a punch to his gut, a punch he wants to dish right back out to anyone who deserves it.

It takes a lot of effort to grab Akira by the shoulders and gently, _gently_ ease him back, turn ferocity into softness, brush kisses over his cheeks, his forehead, grab a tissue from the nightstand to press to the split in his lower lip. He won’t be the one to hurt Akira any more. He _won’t._

 

* * *

 

The 64th is …..it is what it is, faintly bitter, faintly salty, as Akira swipes tears away from his cheeks and Ryuji just holds onto him with an iron grip.

They died. They _died_ , for real, they faded out of existence and _no one noticed._ Would his mom have remembered him, remembered she had a son that loved her like the ocean loved the moon? Or would she….not?

They died, but they’re still here. They died, but Akira came back for them, pulled one last Phantom Thief heist to drag them all back from the beyond.

Ryuji is certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves this boy, and the 65th is an effort to say just that.

 

* * *

 

The 66th is peppermint, a candy cane shared between the two of them as they sit curled on Akira’s mattress. The blanket curled around them works to stave off the chill that the space heater doesn’t. Akira is quiet, guarded, his useless glasses folded and set aside as he toys with the candy, spins it around his finger until Ryuji snags it and breaks it in half, tucks a piece between Akira’s lips.

The look of confusion lasts for a few glorious seconds before Ryuji leans in and crunches it off as close to Akira as he can.

 _Finally_ Akira smiles, wraps a hand around the back of Ryuji’s neck, and all but lets him steal the rest of the candy cane. Clearly Ryuji is the best and most persuasive Phantom Thief there ever was.

Numbers 67 through 72 are also peppermint.

 

* * *

 

The 73rd is chocolate.

Look, Ryuji’s been waiting for this for a _long_ time. He’s had months to think about it, months of missing him and fighting for him and _waiting_ for him-- and it all worked, he’s back where he belongs, back with _Ryuji._

Everyone else is gone. There’s a mug of coffee sitting untouched in front of Ryuji and one cradled in Akira’s hands, but he’s just sitting there and inhaling it, looking at Ryuji through the wisps of steam still rising.

He swallows, pulls the box of chocolate out of his pocket, and sets it on the table between them. An offering. A question.

Akira doesn’t hesitate to pull it towards him, the upward quirk of his lips answer enough. He pops one into his mouth, then leans over the table and hooks his fingers into Ryuji’s collar.

Ryuji had been worried about the taste (he’s never made homemade chocolates before) but even he can admit in a job well done.

 

* * *

 

The 98th is coffee.

Akira’s clutching a takeaway cup of it, and even Ryuji can tell the difference between Boss’s coffee and the generic stuff. Everything else just sorta smells...burnt. His face is drawn, knuckles white as they wrap around the cup. He must’ve been going around saying his goodbyes.

Ryuji’s his last stop.

They lean against the wall outside of the arcade, Akira’s hands on the coffee cup, Ryuji’s tucked into his own pockets. He’d known this was coming with the inevitability of a bullet train, but now that it’s actually happening it still _sucks._ He’s seen Akira’s face every day for the last year, and the prospect of going through another one without him...it’s daunting.

Akira closes the distance between them, leans his forehead against Ryuji’s and waits. Their breath mingles in the air between them, just visible in the light of a particularly chilly spring afternoon.

When Ryuji leans in, it’s just like the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~i absolutely did not buy a bunch of japanese candy/drinks/gum to get the most authentic™ writing experience what~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> kiss #7 is [black black caffeinated gum!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Black)  
> kiss #44 is [mitsuya cider soft candies!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitsuya_Cider) someday i gotta order the hard candies b/c i love things that fizz
> 
> (the caffeine gum is so weird but i love it??)
> 
> my tumblr is [cant-icle!](https://cant-icle.tumblr.com)


End file.
